Tail of a Fox: The Story of the FoxFaced Girl
by SilverAquaTrident
Summary: I think a lot of people know me as Foxface. It's not my real name, of course, but I like it. It suits me, I guess. People may think I'm just this sly, cunning girl who almost won the 74th Hunger Games. They also love to compare me with a fox. But I am a human. I make mistakes. And my biggest mistake was overestimating myself. My name is Finch Wetherall, and here is my story.
1. Reaping Foxes

**Chapter 1: Reaping Foxes**

**A/N: Hello there! I'm Power-to-the-Platypi12, author of **_**Me, a Quarter Quell, and My Stupid Life: The Untold Story of Haymitch Abernathy **_**. This is the story of Foxface from her Reaping to her death**

"BEEP! BEEP! Workers, it is time to rise. The Reaping will occur today at 13:00 PM. Be dressed in the designated Reaping clothes outside your door by 4:50. Work will be canceled today due to -"

I flip the switch off to make the voice on the loudspeaker shut up. Honestly, did they really have to wake us up at 4:30 in the morning? Work was canceled today, and the Reaping isn't until 13:00.

See, I live in the District 5 Electric Power Plant. My parents died when I was ten, so I had the option of either going to the Community Center with a bunch of random kids and probably getting beaten on a daily basis, or working here. Obviously, I chose the latter. I now live in this tiny living compartment with two other kids my age.

"Finnnccchhh…" I hear a low moan below my top bunk. Sparkes, one of my roommates, is just waking up. "Shut up, Sparkes, we have to get ready for the reaping." "Yeah, yeah, whazz off," he mumbles, and he drifts back into sleep.

We all hate the Reaping, but Sparkes especially hates it. His uncle, who was also named Sparkes, died in the 50th Hunger Games. He never met his uncle before, but it still really hurts him. His parents took care of him until he was ten, but then they couldn't afford to feed him any more so they sent him here. Sparkes is really friendly and good-natured, like a lot of the people here. He has brown shaggy hair that falls over his eyes and a nubby round nose that makes him resemble a dog.

"Oh goody, is Sparker the Barker zoning out again?"

This very warm comment comes from Bizzie, my other, very snarky, roommate. She sleeps on the second layer of our three-bed bunker. Her parents ditched her because she was crippled and they saw her as a shame to their family. She roamed the streets until she was eight, when a worker at the power plant found her and took her here. Luckily, her limp healed as years went on.

"Yeah. Wanna help me wake him up?" A grin lights up her face. "Yeah, let's give him a little kiss so he'll start sleep-talking about how desperate he is for a girl." We climb down to his bed on the bottom bunk and each plant our lips on one of his cheeks. He grins and starts to mumble. "Yeah…pretty girl…mmm…you're so pretty…oh yeah….AUUGGHHH!"

He immediately bolts up, and me and Bizzie are howling with laughter while he flails around in confusion. Sparkes finally calms down when he realizes he is not being attacked. "Oh no, was I saying weird things again?" "No, Sparkes, you were simply expressing your love for the pretty girl you will never get!" We continue chortling with laughter. "Gee, thanks guys, I'm so glad to know I have such supportive friends." He grumbles sarcastically, sending me and Bizzie into fits of laughter again. Then I realize something.

"Oh god, we have to be ready in ten minutes!" We immediately race over to the box of reaping clothes that were delivered to us. We tear open the box. Sparkes pulls out a blue dress shirt and black trousers addressed to him. He shrugs. "Not too bad, considering the purple ruffled piece of crap they sent me last year." We snicker at the memory. Next, I pull out the clothes addressed to me. I got a simple white strapless dress with a green sash. "Yeah, this is pretty good." Bizzie nods in approval, then pulls out her clothes.

"WHAT?" Me and Sparkes burst out laughing. Bizzie got a pink lace dress with a frilly white collar and purple flowers embroidered into it. "WHAT IS THIS HIDEOUS OBJECT?" "You are what you wear, Bizzie!" Sparkes teases. "Yeah, it matches your personality _perfectly_!" I add. Bizzie groans. "Okay, this is bad, but it's nothing compared to Sparkes's getup last year."

We quickly take off our sleepwear and throw on our Reaping outfits. We look in the government-issued mirror on our government-issued chest of drawers. "Sexy, Bizzie!" I quickly run a brush through my wavy scarlet hair and tie it up in a bun with some spare rope. Bizzie slices off her collar with a knife, slightly lessening the awfulness of the dress. "You know, I think I'd rather go naked," she mutters, and she pulls off the dress and puts on some cargo pants and a brown tank top.

"_That's_ better." "Wow, I can't imagine what Sean would say if he saw you in the dress!" Sean is a very friendly young Peacekeeper who guards the power plant and likes to flirt with me and Bizzie. Sometimes he finds hideous things he knows Bizzie will hate and mails them to her as birthday presents just to antagonize her.

"Come on, let's head down to the square. Maybe we can buy an orange if we pool in our wages."

We grab some of our wage money and walk out of the dormitory. We buy an orange, split it, eat it, grab a ball, and play football, four square, and kickball with a bunch of kids from school for about seven hours. Then we decide to walk to the square for the Reaping.

It's a sunny day, and normally everyone would be in a good mood. But something's telling me that sending off two kids to die from our district does not make anyone very happy. The crowd walking toward the square seems almost like a funeral procession with the gloomy expression on everyone's gaunt faces. Even Sean, who is usually happy and perky, just nods glumly at us when we pass.

We sign in when we reach the square and head over to the roped off fourteen-year old section. "May the odds be in your favor," Sparkes tells us. We pat him on the back as he strolls stiffly to the boys' section. Bizzie and I walk to the girls' section. We nod to a few friends from school and push toward the front. Bizzie always wants a good view of the stage so she can laugh at our escort's awful outfits. No one's really talking right now – they're just mulling over their chances of getting reaped. Speaking of that, me, Sparkes, and Bizzie didn't put in any tesserae because the power plant gives us meals, albeit small. We each only have three slips. I figure the odds are probably in our favor.

Mayor Hemsley steps up to the podium, her spiky auburn hair curling around her spectacles. "Welcome, District 5, to the Reaping of the 74th Annual Hunger Games." She booms in her deep, commanding voice. Then she begins to read her tediously long speech that the Capitol wants us to think is important. The Mayor used to make us laugh by subtly imitating the Capitol during her speech and almost cracking up, but the officials caught on to that and interpreted it as mocking the Capitol, so she was forced to stop. That was a shame. The way she would raise her eyebrows and snicker when she read the part about the Capitol being pure really kind of lightened things up. I suppose the Capitol just wants to take away every little thing that makes us happy in life.

Much to our relief, she wraps up her speech and reads the list of victors. "Dominic Clarkeson, Infusia Simmons, Wesley Randolph, and Kendall McAlister." Wesley, an obnoxious drunk guy, waves to the crowd and slurs "HI.", making everyone snicker. Bizzie nudges me and snorts.

Kendall McAlister won the 72nd Hunger Games when she was just twelve by creating a solar ray to reflect beams of sunlight to blind her enemies. She would then throw a spear in their hearts with her exact aim. She's charming and pretty, and _very _popular with the Capitol. Kendall is our age, and she seems nice. She's not snooty or anything. She's mentoring this year, along with Dominic Clarkeson, a very hot eighteen-year-old dude.

Mayor Hemsley then introduces Maximus Flannigan, the biggest joke of Panem besides District 12's Haymitch Abernathy. Maximus is famous for wearing the most awful outfits to the Reapings. This year he is wearing yellow tights, very short silver shorts, and he's going shirtless with a golden streak of lightning spread across his stomach and torso. His skin is dyed an obnoxiously shiny silver, his hair rolled in a giant anvil shape, and even worse is that blinking little lights are embedded in his skin. Wow. The pathetic ways he tries to represent our district's industry. "Yep, this one's a classic." mutters Bizzie. He's also famous for mispronouncing common words.

Maximus steps toward the Reaping bowls. "Happy Hugner Gahmes! And may the odds be over in your favors!" Everyone snickers. Hugner Gahmes? That's a new one. "Let us start with the gentlesmens, shall we?" I can hear the entire district hold their breath_. Please don't be Sparkes, please don't be Sparkes, _I pray. Maximus pulls out a slip and smooths it out dramatically.

"Evan Tagner!"

Oh no. Not Evan Tagner. Everyone groans as the twelve-year-old guy walks up to the stage. Evan is a boy that helps out with infusing atoms to make electricity. He lives in the compartment next to us in the dormitory. He's charming and sweet, and he knows pretty much everyone in the district. He's one of the most loved boys in District 5.

"Congratsulations, Ethen Wagnor!"

He gets the names wrong every time.

"And now for the ladies!"

Oh great. Here comes the moment of truth. _Not me or Bizzie, not me or Bizzie!_

"Ysyhem Chinf!"

Wait, what? Who the heck is that? Everyone is murmuring until Maximus clears his throat. "Sorry, it was upsides downsies." Oh, Maximus. Stupid, stupid, Maximus.

"Okay, the female tributie for the 74th Annual Hagner Games is…

Finch Wetherall!"

Oh, man. I think that's one of my friends from school. I look around for Finch. Someone nudges me. Wait a minute…

"Finch Wetherall?" Bizzie looks at me with a pained expression. Oh, wait. I'm Finch Wetherall. And I just got reaped.

I take a breath, put on my couldn't-care-less expression, and push myself forward.

I pass faces. Some I recognize, some I don't. They pity me. Fear me. Gape at me. Smile at me. Grimace at me. How would these random people know what this feels like? It's strange, though. It's like I'm numb. I don't know what I feel right now. Despair? Anger? Hopelessness? I don't know.

Next thing I know, I'm on the stage, shaking hands with Kendall and Evan.

"Ladies and Gentlesmens, the tributs of District 5!"

People clap, but the applause is half-hearted. What are they supposed to clap for, the fact that two innocent children they know are off to die?

I fix my eyes on a point in the distance.

_This is sick, _I think. _This is just plain sick._


	2. Leaving Foxes

**Chapter 2: Leaving Foxes**

**A/N: 'Ello there again! This is chapter 2, but you should know that because it says that in big letters across the top of this page. Sorry, this is kind of a short chapter – I hope you enjoy it, though! Please review – I am a young inexperienced author and this is my second story, so reviews mean everything to me! :D**

_Okay. I just got reaped. Everything will be alright._

Thoughts run through my mind like dripping paint as I sit anxiously on the plush lavender chair, waiting for my loved ones to come and say their final goodbyes to me. And I mean it when I say final. There's no way I can ever make it back home. There will be the Careers to deal with. I mean, these kids have been toying around with dangerous weapons since they could walk. How could I stand a chance against them?

I guess my wits are all I have to work with.

Just as that dawns upon me, my only two loved ones burst through the door and tackle me in a giant bear hug, forming a huddle as we rest our heads together. I can tell that Sparkes is full-out sobbing, and even a few tears are running down Bizzie's face. Bizzie never cries. I can feel liquid streaming out of my own eyes. How will I ever survive without these two?

Oh, that's right. I won't.

Sparkes and Bizzie draw back. "Finch," Sparkes whispers. He cups my face in his hands. "When I was having that dream this morning, well...I was dreaming about you." But before I realize what's happening, he smashes his lips against mine. Warmth spreads through me, circulating through everywhere inside of me. So I guess I was the pretty girl he always dreamed about. I find that a little shocking. I'm not that pretty; I'm pretty much a short girl with reddish hair and amber eyes and sharp angular features that make my face look almost like a fox. Yeah. Bizzie and Sparkes call me Foxface for a reason.

I never realized there was anything romantic between me and Sparkes, but looking back, I guess there is. We've always liked each other - Bizzie constantly teased us about it. I close my eyes and savor kissing Sparkes.

"Um, hello? Working my gag reflex much?"

Wow. Leave it to Bizzie to ruin the moment. Sparkes clutches my back as I pull back slowly, gazing into those gentle amber eyes that are almost an exact mirror of mine. Bizzie walks to us. "You know, I just said that because I wanted to give you something. It's from me and Sparkes; it was going to be for your birthday. Here," Bizzie pulls something out of her pocket. A little turquoise glass fox hangs from a silver chain, sparkling in the light of the lamps. It's one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen.

"Oh, guys," I whisper. "How did you afford this?" Sparkes smirks. "Negotiating, saving, and maybe a bit of stealing…" I laugh a little. "This is amazing! I'm never going to take it off from now until the end." Sparkes' smile falters. "What do you mean 'the end'? You're definitely going to come back! You're the fastest runner out of all of us, you're cunning, witty, smart, clever – all of the things the Careers are not."

Wait – me? Cunning? Well, I guess I am clever and smart or whatnot, but I didn't know they thought I was some mastermind. Bizzie talks next in her normal confident tone. "You're stronger than they are. And I'm not just saying that. You know me; I barely ever tell anyone things like that. Brains are way stronger than brawn. What use is strength if you're just gonna stumble into a brainy person's trap?" A Peacekeeper pops his head in. "Time to go, kid. The train's here."

Sparkes screams the last words as he's dragged out of the room by the burly Peacekeeper. "Remember, Finch – We're betting on you! I love you! You're the best thing that ever happened to me!" The Peacekeeper pulls them out and closes the door, my old nickname echoing around the room.

And they're gone. Forever.

* * *

The Peacekeeper comes back in and escorts me out of the room after about ten minutes of me sobbing. I am immediately pushed outside, into the crisp winter air and a sea of flashing cameras and Capitolites. I put on a smirk, hiding the tears I fear are about to spill forward. I shove through the crowd and stumble onto the train, finally away from the raving crowd.

I stop and gaze at my surroundings, my amber eyes slowly scanning the room. A giant light fixture hangs above me with its crystalline body slowly swaying, casting strange shadows across the wall. Elaborate moldings and decorations are built into this long room, and tapestries hang from the walls. A long table lies in the middle, so this obviously must be the dining room.

Suddenly, whimpering resonates from across the room. I whirl around and see Evan standing in the doorframe, wiping his eyes. "You're pretty brave. You never cried. I wish I didn't cry so much." I smile at Evan. He is the sweetest thing. "Don't worry about it, Ev. I cried in the goodbye room a lot." He grins, making his smile stretch ear to ear of his bright round face. "Well that makes me feel a lot better. Have you seen our rooms yet?" "No. Let's go check them out."

We walk into another corridor, where two doors stand across from each other. I open the door labeled "Finch". As soon as I push open the blue-tinted opaque glass door, I am amazed at what I see.

This bedroom is at least four times as big as my compartment back at the power plant. The walls are black, with the features glowing an electric turquoise. That's wonderful – black and blue is my favorite color combination. The bed is quilted in black sheets and a turquoise blanket, and also covered in a ridiculously large assortment of pillows. I notice a giant blue button on the wall and reluctantly press it.

The room suddenly turns into a desert. Literally. The floor seems to turn to sand, cacti surround everything - it looks so real. I press it again, and it turns into a city. Nah. I press it yet again, and it turns into a beach. No, I'm not from District 4. I press it again and again, and the scenery changes from everything to fields of grain, a mountain filled with trees, cattle mowing on an open field, until it finally turns into snowy woods with a village filled with glowing lights shining through the windows of the log cabins. Perfect. Just like District 5.

I plop down on a bed that seems to be made of snow, and I close my eyes and imagine that I really am back in 5, next to Bizzie and Sparkes and all our friends from the power plant, telling jokes around a fire outside on a cold winter's night. I let the tendrils of sleep curl out and consume me, and I'm falling into a warm fuzzy haze of pleasant dreams about home.


	3. Laughing Foxes

**Chapter 4: Laughing Foxes**

**A/N: Hi everyone, Tail of a Fox is BACK! Thanks to my followers who have stuck through with MQQSL!**

**Sorry, late update. Me and my pals pulled our first all-nighter on Sunday night, so on Monday I felt like crap and couldn't write. Next update tomorrow. Reviews make me happy! :D**

**Enjoy the chapter!**

"Wakie wakie, Finchie-pie! We are scheduled to arrived in the Capitawl today!"

I lift up my head, and I smile to myself. The snowy village surrounding me is streaked with sunlight.

It really was just a dream. I'm back home in District 5, camping with Sparkes and Bizzie.

"Come, come!"

I turn my head back around, sighing with disappointment. No, I'm not in District 5. I'm in a posh Capitol room with electronic wallpaper, I'm a tribute in the 74th Hunger Games, and a gold-painted Maximus is standing in my doorway, beginning to become impatient.

"Coming," I mumble. I swing my legs off of the bed, resisting the temptation of throwing the satiny sheets back over my body.

"Breakiefast is in fiiiiiiiiiive minutes! Oh, and you missed dinner laste nawght." Maximus chimes, way too enthusiastically, as if he were trying to entertain a class of bored seven year olds. He skips out of the room and shuts the door behind him, off to try some delicacies at "breakiefast".

I spot a giant black wardrobe, and I press large blue button that says 'OPEN' in bold white letters. The doors swing open, nearly whacking me in the head. Tons of outfits line the racks and shelves, and on the inside of the door is a large touch-screen that apparently programs an outfit for my taste.

An outfit to my taste? What do they mean? All I ever really wear is shirts and sweaters and pants or shorts, it's not like you can get picky about fashion when you live in the fourth poorest district in the nation.

I stare at the screen, perplexed by the whole concept. Sure, I've been around plenty of computers in the power plant, but those were weird clunky machines that constantly break down.

I finally click on black pants and a green and white striped shirt that is _much_ too low cut for my taste, despite it being the most modest shirt in the closet. I throw on the clothes and slink out the door and into the dining car.

4 people sit around a long table, scooping bites of bacon and pancakes and fruit into their mouths. On one side of the table is Maximus. He chatters loudly to a girl next to him about fur undergarments. The girl looks to be about fourteen, average height and muscular, long wavy auburn hair tied up in a very messy ponytail, her amber eyes rolling as Maximus blabbers. She resembles me quite a bit, though her features are less angled. The end of her nose is slightly upturned, and her ears are a bit pointy, like an elf.

Of course. Kendall McAlister, the girl who won two years ago.

Beside her is a blonde guy, also very muscular. He smiles at everyone constantly, his blue eyes gleaming. Dominic Clarkson, winner of the 71st Hunger Games. Yeah, that's right. District 5 had two Victors in a row. I can't help but notice that whenever he talks, bright silver flecks appear in his eyes.

Chatting brightly with Dominic is Evan, beaming and laughing. It all seems like a nice enough conversation, and my stomach growls from missing dinner. The tantalizing scent of fried meat wafts into my nose, so I head into the room.

"Hey there," I say confidently. I was never one to be shy.

Every single person in the room jumps. Maximus's cup of spiked orange juice flies out of his hand and shatters on the ground.

"Whoa, when did you get here?" asks Dominic in awe. I shrug. "Just now, I guess. Why?"

The foursome gapes at me. "No, it's just that we couldn't even hear you coming. You just, like, materialized," Evan says.

I stand there, not knowing what to say. I mean, Bizzie and Sparkes would comment on my light tread sometimes, but I never knew that was so amazing…

"Oh…um…okay," I reply, for lack of better words.

Kendall smiles warmly. "Well, why don't you come and sit down? We've got some bacon laid out, and it's _heavenly_."

I sit down at an empty seat next to Evan and across from Kendall. Kendall seems nice enough.

Maximus gets up, saying that he must visit the "room of baths".

I reach for some bacon out of a polished silver tray, but Evan whacks my arm.

"Ow!" I yelp. He gives me an apologetic look.

"Sorry. Maximus insists that we use those weird silver thingies to pick up the bacon. When I used my fingers, he started freakin' on me. If he comes back and sees you using your hands all of a sudden..."

He shakes his head, smirking.

I return his smile. "Well, thanks for the warning, then."

Dominic grins. "Yeah, you don't want to mess with him. When I was a tribute, I apparently was holding my fork in the wrong hand. You should have seen how many colors his face turned!"

We all laugh, imagining a livid Maximus. Kendall speaks next. "Hey, remember when we were mentoring last year, and the girl tribute Helena made Maximus so mad?"

Dominic chuckles. "Oh yeah! She was awesome. She pointed out that Maximus said her name wrong, and he swore that he would make sure she died in the Bloodbath!"

This gains more laughs from us. "Yeah," agrees Kendall. "The best thing was that she made it to the final three, and he was outraged! But then..."

Her smile fades, along with ours. Yes, we all know what happened to Helena. She was one of the power plant orphans, and one of our friends. Bizzie was pretty close to her, and we all liked her. Helena was sharp-minded, and she made it to the top three relying on her smarts. But some girl from 10 hacked her up. That girl ended up wining. In her interview she mentioned that it was just like slaughtering a cow, and it felt kind of _good_. Of course, the people of our district were outraged. On her Victory tour, she actually taunted Helena, nearly starting a riot.

I am snapped out of my gruesome reverie as Maximus skips into the room. "Hello again, tributies and mentoirs!"

The four of us exchange an amused glance. I pick up the strange metal things and scoop bacon onto my plate. I take a bite, and warm, juicy, smoky flavor fills my mouth.

"So..." Kendall says. "Should we begin 'mentoiring' the 'tributies'?"

I suppress a giggle at Kendall's mockery.

Maximus nods. "Yeppity-doo-da! I'm off to take a shower." Much to our relief, he skips out of the room.

We let out our suppressed laughter. "He didn't notice that I blatantly mocked him!" exclaims Kendall through her chortles.

The rest of breakfast goes on, consisting of much bacon and laughter and joke-telling. At one point, Dominic was laughing so hard that he accidently shattered his plate. He shrugs it off, saying that "I didn't knock it over, it just decided to commit suicide and it ran into me!"

After a while, the conversation turns to the Games. We discuss tactics, ways past Victors won. Dominic and Kendall are really smart, and they prove to be excellent mentors, giving tons of useful advice.

"You know," Dominic says. "I think District 5 tributes may have a chance this year."

Evan snorts. "Yes, we'll kill everyone with our jokes and witty remarks!"

Kendall shrugs. "Hey, there's lots of ways to kill people. You just have to find out how."

"So you can kill someone with a joke?" I ask.

Kendall shrugs. "Who knows? You almost killed Dominic when you told one! I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

A grin spreads across my face, and I nod. "I guess we will, Kendall," I say. "I guess we will."


	4. Greeting Foxes

**Chapter 5: Greeting Foxes**

**A/N: Welcome, welcome, welcome!**

**Hey, just letting you know, I submitted the D9 Female tribute into The **_**125**__**th **__**Hunger Games: SYOT**_**. Her name is Rye Goldsmith. The SYOT is open right now, so go and check it out, maybe submit a tribute!**

**ATTENTION: I have decided what story I will work on through August when I'm done with this. It's called…*drum roll…***

_**Of Wires and Voltage: The Story of Beetee Macintosh**_

**Yeah, that's right. The 52****nd**** Hunger Games from the POV of our favorite nerd! Beetee has always been my favorite character along with Haymitch, Foxface, Plutarch, Cinna, Rue, and Clove.**

**It will include his Games, the Reaping, some Beewiss, and Wiress's Games from Beetee's POV. It will follow pretty much the same time frame as MQQSL and TOAF – except it will be much longer than MQQSL, extending to Catching Fire and possibly Mockingjay. I will begin OWAV soon after I finish TOAF.**

**Enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

Maximus bursts into our conversation, his plump face red with glee. "Guess whaaaaaaaaat? We just arrived in the Capeetawl!"

He grins expectantly at us, though we still sit there, our faces displaying no sign of emotion. You can practically hear everyone blinking.

"What, you aren't excited?" Maximus asks, his lopsided grin fading slowly, his golden eyebrows falling closer and closer to his cosmetically altered eyes.

Yeah, of course we're excited. So excited to get mobbed by paparazzi, plastered in crap by perky prep teams, and sentenced to indefinite death. Uh-huh. Yeah – _no_.

A forced smile turns up the corners of Kendall's lips. "Um…yeah. Come on, guys, let' s go."

We slowly rise from our plush seats and trudge over to a window, though I think we look more like a funeral procession than excited tributes. Evan pulls back a shiny curtain, and I'm blinded with light. Cameras flash through the glass, magnified by the reflectiveness. Multi-colored figures push through the bustling crowd, attempting to get a look at the newest tributes, more kids sent off to die. I glance discreetly over at Evan, and he smiles, even waves to the Capitolites. I reluctantly turn my head back to the people, and I put on my signature smirk, but I refuse to revel in the glory. I won't become their pawn, their doll, their queen that will fall into blackness and be forgotten forever in the years to come, forever and ever and ever and...

Dominic pulls my hand. "Come on," he says with half-hearted enthusiasm. I follow him out of the train car.

Tall, looming buildings streak the horizon, relecting neon colors off their glowing walls. I can barely catch one glimpse of the ruling city of Panem until the crowd engulfs me again, bombarding me with questions. I follow the mentors, which requires quite a bit of shoving around.

Finally, I am pushed into a large building with black walls lined with glowing turquoise accents.

The ceiling is huge; so tall that nothing in the power plant can even compare to it, not even the warehouses. Evan and I follow Maximus and the mentors to the front desk, where a prim, young, bespectacled lady is sitting on a stool, wielding a clipboard and a neon green fluffy pen.

"We're District Five," Dominic tells the receptionist. "Male is Evan, female is Finch."

The lady leans over the desk, scrutinizing us with emerald eyes, her tight blonde curls bouncing. "Ah yes," she says in a silly Capitol accent. "Yes, I remember you two from the Reapings. The boy is striking, I must say!" She leans even farther forward and pats Evan's shaggy blonde mane, causing him to blush and squirm uncomfortably. "Call me sometime," she whispers flirtaciously, batting her acid green eyelids. I stifle a snort.

"Um...sorry, but...I'm twelve." Evan replies brightly, albeit tentatively.

The lady's eyes widen in surprise, and her pale cheeks flood with color. "Oh," she says. "Well then. Never mind. And yes, I recognize the girl." She looks me over and grunts disapprovingly. "Skinny ankles, bad posture, and your hair is _pitifully_ red. Honestly, haven't you heard that red is, like, _way_ last year?"

I roll my eyes. Yes, because District Five is completely up to date on Capitol fashion trends. Please note the sarcasm.

"Whazz off, Minnie, she's just fifteen," Dominic retorts. He hurriedly ushers us away from the creepy lady at the desk, throwing a glare at her for good measure.

"Who the heck was that?" Evan asks. Kendall sighs. "Minnie. Very annoying receptionist. Don't cross her. Hey, we've got some more forms to fill out for you two, so you guys can take the elevator up to your rooms. You're on the fifth floor." She turns on her heel and strolls away, accompanied by Maximus and Dominic.

I begin to walk toward the elevator, but Evan grabs my arm. "Um...let's go to the other elevator. We don't want to cross Minnie again, I swear she was about to snog me..."

I laugh. "Come on, Mr. I-Attract-Ladies-Twice-My-Age."

We rush to the elevator on the other side so as not to have to deal with Minnie and step inside.

Perhaps elevators are new to most tributes, but not to me and Evan. We travel up and down with them all the time back in the power plant, so really they're nothing special. This one is just clean and silver and does not smell like stale sweat.

The shiny doors are about to slide shut, when I hear someone call "WAIT!"

Evan sticks his hand out to block the doors, and they slide open again. A girl and two boys, all looking to be about our age, are dashing toward our elevator. They finally slow down when they step inside, panting and out of breath.

"Sorry," one guy with brown eyes and rounded hair says. "The Careers are after us. We made the mistake of entering the other elevator, which apparently they 'reserved'. I swear, I've never run so fast in my life..."

Evan and I laugh at their predicament. Something about the terrorized expressions on their faces is simply laughable.

"Yeah, wouldn't be surprised if they're already armed with weapons and hunting for tributes to kill, they way they suck up to the Capitol!" I exclaim, gaining more laughs, not because it's funny, but because it's just plain true.

"I know, right?" the girl giggles, her frizzy auburn hair bouncing in her face. She presses the numbers 4, 8, and 10 on the buttons."I'm Annabelle. District Ten."

"Finch. District Five," I reply. "This is Evan, my partner."

"So I'd guess one of those guys is your district partner?" Evan asks Annabelle, gesturing at the two boys.

The boy laughs. "I wish! I'm Ethan, District Eight. My district partner Dimity is a freak, she might as well be one of those dumb blondes from One! I'm avoiding her as much as possible, she found a can of purple hair dye on the train and is trying to dye my hair!"

We laugh even harder.

"Hey, at least ya' district mate aren't a Career, eh? I'm telling ya, Misty's teeth are 'bout an inch long, can't decide if she a chipmunk or a vampire!" the other guy with shaggy dirty blonde hair jokes. His accent is different than the people's from 5. I think it's described as Australian or Irish or something like that.

After we finish chortling with laughter, we calm down enough to keep talking.

"Where are you from?" Evan asks, obviously noting his strange accent.

"Me name's Triton. I'm a fisherman from Four, and me definitely not a Career!"

Annabelle nods. "Lucky you. Rumour has it that this year they're really strong!"

"Aye, when we ran into 'em in the elevator, they was snarlin' at us like we was fresh meat! One of the lads was brutal, from Two I think. Told us to get out or they'll kick my...eh...butt in the arena. Only 'e didn't say butt..."

I laugh. "Yeah, we get the idea. Hey Triton, I think this is your floor?"

A mechanical voice says "Floor Four, District Four; Fishing. District Four Tributes, Mentors, Escort, and Style Preparation Team" as if to prove my statement.

Triton grunts. "Wish me luck, mates. The lass Misty shan't be happy after me botherin' her in the elevator!"

We exchange goodbyes and pats on the back until Triton steps out of the elevator, though the doors are still open. "Ah, good, she aren't here yet," he says. But just as he finishes his sigh of relief, a girl with long, dark hair bursts in, her tan face flustered with fury.

"You are a peevish bag of rotten flounder bum, you are! Ya' embarrassed me, an' now I am the freakin' laughin'stock of the Careers! Aye, I'll see to it that ya're dead in the Bloodbath faster than you can say 'moldy anchor'!"

Misty keeps going on like this in the same odd accent as Triton, while Triton mouths "Sweet as a sand dollar, eh?", then the doors slide closed.

Ethan laughs. "Wow, seems like Triton is in for it!"

"So are we, after the elevator encounter. I barely touched that girl from One, and she started freaking on me for messing up her hair!" Annabelle exclaims.

"Hey at least we know that we aren't 'peevish bags of flounder bum'!" Evan jokes.

The mechanical voice comes on again.

"Floor Five, District Five; Power. District Five Tributes, Mentors, Escort, and Style Preparation Team."

The metal doors open silently. "Hey, see you later," Evan says as we step out onto our floor.

"Yeah!" Ethan replies. "We can talk during training!"

"Of course! Bye!" I say as I turn around and the doors close.

"They're nice," Evan comments.

I nod. "Yeah."

But despite that friendly encounter with Districts 4, 8, and 10, one morbid though crosses my mind:

_The nicer ones are always the harder ones to kill._


	5. Discovering Foxes

**Chapter 6: Discovering Foxes**

**A/N: Hey there! Thanks for all the reviews and such! Updates, as you can tell, are every other day. Enjoy da chapter!**

I plop down on a silver chair, a chair so high that I had to literally climb it, my butt not tall enough to simply sit on it. Evan and I are the only ones at the dinner table so far, and the food hasn't appeared yet, though our stomachs growl.

Kendall strolls in and climbs into the chair next to me, tapping her empty glass nonchalantly. "Hey guys. Dominic should be here any minute, luckily Maximus won't be here tonight."

_Yessssssssssssss!_

Evan and I exchange a grin. "Why isn't he here?" he asks, faking being casual, hiding his excitement at the prospect of a night without our skipping, obnoxious escort.

Kendall returns our smile, her snow-white teeth shining. Dominic bursts in. "Well, did you know that Maximus is also a popular stand-up comedian in the Capitol?" he asks.

The four of us sit in silence for a moment, lips quivering, until finally laughter bursts from our mouths. "_Comedian_?" I exclaim, imagining the stupid silvery man standing up on a stage telling jokes, rewarded by a laughing crowd.

"I know right?" Kendall hoots. "Of all people!"

I feel a tap on my shoulder all of a sudden. By reflex I whirl around, only to find that I have startled a young auburn haired woman holding a tray of drinks. The drinks slide to the floor, shattering in a thousand shiny pieces.

"Oh my gosh, I'm sorry!" I hastily apologize as I bend down and help her scoop up the glittering fragments, patting the wet floor with my napkin.

Evan comes under the table too, placing a large piece of glass back on the tray. "That was completely my fault!" I exclaim.

The girl looks up at me, tears filling her amber eyes. Something about her is familiar, something I can't quite place a finger on…

"Oh…um…sorry, did I offend you?" I rack my brain for anything offensive I might have said to her just now that's causing her to cry, but I find nothing. The lady shakes her head, smiling. Why won't she just talk? And…why is she crying?

We finish cleaning up the mess, and by this time the woman's smile has broadened significantly. Standing up, she pats us both on the back and lifts up the tray, striding jovially back through a pair of double doors that I assume lead to the kitchen.

I climb back onto my chair and notice Dominic and Kendall staring at us, mixed emotions crossing their faces. "What?" I ask, assuming I might have done something wrong. Dominic shakes his head in shock. "You two treated her…like an _equal_."

Evan makes an indignant _humph_. "So?" he questions, his round face flushing with budding anger. "Everyone deserves to be treated like an equal, even if they're a servant!"

"Yeah, you're right," Kendall says tentatively. "But that girl is an Avox."

I glance at Evan, but he just shrugs. "What's an Avox?"

"An Avox is someone from the Districts or the Capitol that is a criminal or 'traitor'. What they do to them is cut out their tongues and force them to serve the people of the Capitol. Technically, you're not supposed to talk to them unless to give an order."

We sit in silence for a moment, reflecting on the awfulness of the whole idea.

"That's…that's _terrible_!" Evan whispers. I can see tears threatening to stream out of his bright blue eyes.

Dominic nods gently, sympathy glazing over his face. "Yes, it's horrible. They don't treat them like humans, they act like they're slaves, like they're animals. What you did by cleaning up the glass and saying sorry…that's probably the kindest treatment she's ever gotten since she became an Avox. You and Evan were so generous to her…"

"You two are really compassionate," Kendall comments softly. "That was probably one of the best things that ever happened to her in years, just the simple act of cleaning up the glass for her."

See, this kind of thing is where one of my main flaws comes into play. Selfishness. Being one of the poorest in my district, I've always convinced myself that you can't be any worse off than I already am. But look at the Avox. Broken. Beaten. And I swear I saw the marks of angry hands on her face.

If I had known that she was a servant, I think I wouldn't have said sorry to her. I would have been too nervous that I would get in trouble.

No, I don't think that's selfishness. That's cowardice. My absolute biggest flaw. I'm a coward. I don't deserve to be gushed over by my mentors for the braveness and generosity that I don't have. I simply thought she was just an ordinary waitress…

"I have to go," I say to the others all of a sudden. They gape at me in surprise. "Wait, why?" Evan asks.

"I…um…" I fumble over my words. "I'm…not feeling well." I turn around and quickly rush out of the room, leaving the Evan and the mentors to shoot each other puzzled looks.

I open up a door, notice a bed, kick the door closed, and slam myself down onto the plush bed, sobbing.

I don't know what it is about that encounter with the Avox, but it's getting to me somehow. Guilt washes over me as I choke, the thought of her awful life thickening my throat.

This is how awful the Capitol is. They treat these people as if they don't matter, Dominic said so. How terrible must it be to have your tongue cut out, to wait on the dolled-up snobs of the Capitol for your entire life?

_Pull it together, Finch,_ I try to tell myself. _Stop sobbing. It's just an Avox, just someone who deserved it… _

I only cry harder into the pillow. I don't know why I'm crying. I don't know why the idea of Avoxes is so implanted in my head, taunting me. The beaten face of the Avox shines itself through my closed eyes, and I can't get rid of the image.

Something in my head went off at the word _Avox_. It's almost like I have some awful memory associated with her. I swear, I know Avox resembles me quite a bit, but…

NO. No, it can't be. But the thought nags me like a swarm of gnats.

My mother. The Avox is my mother.

_Oh, come on, Finch don't be ridiculous. There are plenty of people out there who look like you. Kendall looks like you and she's not your mother!_

I think back to days outside our log cabin with my mom, me running in the snow while she laughed, her sweet voice filling the air. How she would hug me every night before I went to bed and sing a song to me when I was little. However, darker memories begin to take over my mind, memories of the day she was taken from me…

_I drag my ten-year-old self through the forest, a full satchel of a winter squash in my hand. The cold wind bites my face while I trudge through the thick snow, weary feet colliding with the powdery substance. Despite my tired state of physicality, I am determined to get this squash to my mother, she'll be so pleased, she might even make squash and rabbit stew, my favorite. I'm almost back at the cabin, the door is ten feet away, the lights of a blazing fire in the furnace illuminating the window, glowing in the night sky…_

_I swing open the door, brushing off my snow-plastered boots at the steps. "Mom, I'm home! I got the winter squash from the bush!" _

_I glance around our one-room cabin, but my mother is nowhere in sight. I begin to worry. What if something happened to her?_

_Nonsense, I tell myself. She's probably gathering some firewood. "Mom?" I call, a bit louder. "Mom, where are- OOF!"_

_A heavy force collides with me, and I whirl around to find two burly Peacekeepers behind me. Fear shoots through my veins, freezing them, boiling them. Even at this age, I know what having a Peacekeeper show up at your door means. Did I commit a crime?_

"_Um…may I help you?" I ask nervously._

"_Come with us," one of the Peacekeepers says in a rough, gravelly voice. Suddenly, he and his comrade are hoisting me by the arms, dragging me out the door. _

"_Hey, what are you doing? Let me go! LET ME GO! STOP IT!" I cry, kicking and thrashing, trying to hold onto the thin doorframe. With a flick of his hand, a Peacekeeper swipes my hand away from the door._

"_WHERE'S MY MOM?" I bellow. "WHERE IS SHE?"_

_The Peacekeepers cackle, resonating around the silent village. People peek out of windows, eager to see the commotion._

"_She's dead, you little twerp. Your mother is dead, and she's never coming back."_

I feel a light tap on my shoulder. I spin around, convinced that the Peacekeeper is going to shoot me, but I find that it's only the Avox from dinner. I recognize her, I know I do. Her face is more weathered than I remember seeing it last. I recognize her rounded face, her long eyelashes, her thoughtful expression. Her amber eyes still glisten with tears.

Mustering up all the courage I can, I ask the question.

"Are you my mom?"

She looks up at me and stares into my eyes. Conflicting emotions whirl across her face, sorrow, joy, surprise, relief.

She reaches across a table and grabs a piece of paper and a pen. In scraggly cursive, she begins to write slowly. I begin to doubt myself. What the heck did I just ask her? She probably thinks I'm crazy…

She hands the paper to me, and I eagerly grasp it, reading it. And on the paper is one simple word, the answer to my crazy question, the word I was aching to hear.

_Yes._


	6. Dressing Foxes

**Chapter 7: Dressing Foxes**

**A/N: Hey everyone! I am SOOOOO sorry that I haven't updated. I was at a young creative writers' camp, improving my writing. Please tell me if you see a difference! :D Enjoy the chapter, and expect more frequent updates ;)**

So I suppose that after discovering that my mother is an Avox I should gasp, or scream, or burst into tears. That's what any normal person would do, right? Well, seeing as I'm not exactly normal, I don't do any of those three things.

Paralyzed in shock, more memories of my mother and I flood through my head. My mother laughing, my mother cooking, my mother watching me as I ran through the snowy forests with glee.

All my life I was told she was dead. Accident at the power plant, they always told me, shrugging it off like it was no big deal, like it was a loss as petty as losing a game of football with your friends. I remember that when the news came, when the Peacekeepers taunted me about it in their cruel, brutal way, the pain of her death was numb at first, but after a few months, sobs would wrack my body without warning. The only thing that kept me from going mad was my friends.

"Mom…" I whisper. I savor the word, letting it linger on the tip of my tongue. _Mom_. A word I haven't used in five long years, in 1800 days of sorrow.

The tears in the Avox- I mean, Mom's teary eyes finally spill over. Reaching over, she holds me tight, laughing softly, crying all the same. It doesn't matter that she can no longer talk. All that matters is that I'm here, that's she's here, that we're here.

Her grip slackens suddenly, and she reaches for the pen and paper again, writing in her nearly illegible handwriting. I lean over, gazing at the paper, reading it out loud as she writes. "I…think…this…calls…for…a…fancy…Capitol…dinner. I'll…make…pancakes…they're…your…favorite…I…still…remember."

I look up at her, grinning. "Thanks, Mom!" It's been a long time since I've had fluffy pancakes, the kind she used to make me every year for my birthday.

She returns my grin, wide and genuine. She reaches for the paper yet again, writing a hasty note.

"Don't…tell…anyone…or…else…they'll…kill…me…Literally….You…can…tell…Kendall…and…Dominic,…and…Evan…too….He…seems…like…a…good…kid. Yeah, no worries, I won't tell anyone but them."

Mom smiles again, then beckons me forward, and I follow her to the dinner table. The mentors and Evan gaze up at me expectantly. "Everything alright?" Kendall asks tentatively. I nod. "Yeah…long story." I figure it would be a bit awkward to tell a whole table that a random Avox is my long-lost mother.

Dominic shrugs. "Okay. Well, after dinner, the chariot rides will happen at 10:00. And, before the chariot rides, you'll meet your stylist and get prepped by your prep team. You won't like how they treat you. But you'll have to deal with it. And be nice to them. Remember, they have the power to strip off your skin with waxing paper."

I laugh. "Alright then. I wonder if wax paper would make a legitimate weapon in the arena?"

We spend the remaining time before the food comes in a deep discussion concerning the issue of whether or not one could take down a Career with waxing paper. At one point, when I'm in the middle of describing my passionate theory about the molecular structure of wax paper, most of which is completely made up, suddenly my mother walks up to us, wielding a tray full of giant pancakes. I'll bet everyone on the floors above me can hear my stomach growl.

"Funny," Kendall says thoughtfully. "I thought chicken and plums were for dinner tonight. Oh well, I ain't complaining!"

Mom sets the tray down, and we all reach for the pancakes like starved wild animals. In the midst of all our loud chewing, I notice Mom subtly winking at me. I smile at her, then take a bite of my pancake, letting the savory taste of warm syrup flood my mouth.

With lots of jokes and wine and munching, the rest of dinner goes by, then our mentors wave us off to our rooms to wait for our prep team.

I lie down on a turquoise plush bed, awaiting the arrival of my probably horrible prep team. But yet again, how bad could they be? They can't be _that_ bad…right?

The door bangs open suddenly. "Hello, chap!" A bleached blonde man immediately runs up to me and hugs me violently, almost causing me to fall of my bed. Still on top of me, he blabbers in my ear about how his name is Palousus and how he can't wait to be part of my prep team. His breath is really warm on my neck, and I'm starting to get uncomfortable with how close he is to me.

Finally, after like five minutes of him muttering unnervingly close to my ear about how excited he is, he pulls away, revealing two other people, a man and a woman.

"Hey there, Finch! My name is Augustan, and I am so glad to be in the honor of being a member of your prep team!" I notice that Augustan talks much too loud. His hair is purple and curly, and a grin seems permanently plastered on his face. He ushers me into a chair. "Sit down, sit down! You know, if you just believe in yourself, you can sit down on any chair of life!"

I resist the urge to gag at his overly corny inspirational statement. The woman rolls her eyes. Straight black hair drapes her head, colored with a few streaks of various shade of blue. She dons a low-cut black top, a black skirt, black fishnets, black boots, and many layers of black makeup around her icy blue eyes. "Spare her, Augustan," she hisses. "We've all had enough of your inspirational crap for one day. Sorry about them, Finch. I'm Versona. We're here to make you look so perfect that it's stupid!"

I cock my head confusedly, but she doesn't notice. My prep team is already whipping out scary-looking ointments, razors, polish, glitter, every phony beauty object one could possibly imagine. She leans in close to my ear. "Sorry about Palousus, I don't think he's heard of the term 'personal space'." I laugh, because she could not be any more true.

After at least three hours of scrubbing, moaning, polishing, rubbing, tolerating awkward comments about my body (i.e. "Ah, it's nice that your underarm hair is nice and straight and easy to wax off, don't you think, Versona?") and shifting uncomfortably when Palousus gets too close, trying not to gag at Augustan's tacky clichés, and shuddering at Versona's dark threats toward the two men, the prep team steps back to survey their work.

Versona nods. "Not bad. Not bad at all."

I resist the urge to cover up my chest as they scrutinize me up and down, checking for any flaws in my makeover. Oh, and did I mention that I am completely naked right now? Yeah, that part sort of contributes to the embarrassment factor, especially considering the fact that two of the people staring at my uncovered body are men.

Palousus smiles, stalking up to me. "Yes, we did good on you!" he practically shouts in my ear while laying a hand on my bare shoulder. "Not that you didn't look brilliant before. I mean, just look at those abs!"

Okay, that does it. I reach for my robe before they can start marveling at my muscular stomach for too long, trying to casually pull it tightly around my stomach and chest.

Augustus laughs."Oh, no need to worry! She who covers will never-"

I cut him off before he spits out another awkward cliché. "Yeah, um, I get it. So, when are the chariot ride costumes coming?" I ask, eager to turn

"Soon, I think," Palousus answers, still next to my ear. "In fact, we have to get going now, we need to get some more hair gel. It was an _honor _prepping you…it was very fun…_very _fun…"

I shudder slightly. This guy gives me the creeps…

"See you on interview night," Versona says suddenly. She stalks out of the room to my relief, accompanied by Augustan and Palousus.

I stand in front of the mirror, nervous to see what they have done to me.

Yet the result isn't bad at all. My skin is shimmering, my eyelids glowing silver, my dim freckles completely erased. Also, any scars or injuries I've gotten from work (which is a lot) are gone, even the really prominent scar stretching from my lower back to my left shoulder caused by some malfunctioning equipment. I look perfect, as if no sweat, scars, or dirt have ever crossed my body.

The door opens, revealing a kind looking woman in an aqua dress. She looks relatively normal for a Capitolite, except for her long turquoise hair streaked with black. The lady doesn't look much older than me, maybe 17 or 18 years old.

"Hey Finch," she says in a smooth voice, lacking the Capitol's stupid accent. "I'm Marina, your stylist. Did you enjoy your prep team?"

"Um…" I hesitate. "Not really. Augustan is a wannabe inspirational speaker, Palousus is obsessed with my abs, and Versona just scares me."

Marina laughs. "Yeah, this year's prep team for Five is a bit more…odd, shall we say, than usual. Well, Finch, I've got your chariot costume right here. Care to take a look?"

I nod excitedly, though hopefully the costume won't be too bad. For the past few years, District 5 has been stuck with some pretty awful costumes. One year, they tried to dress the tributes as giant power plants. That was Dominic's year, and we were teasing him about it at dinner.

Marina zips open the black bag containing my costume and pulls out a glittery mass of fabric.

"Close your eyes," she says, and I obey her. I let her slide something over me, then I feel something placed on my head. "Open your eyes."

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, amazed. Marina has put me in a glittering silver strapless dress that shimmers when I shift. On my head is a silver spiky crown with a sapphire in the middle. I seem to be glowing in the dress, like a lightning bolt streaking across the sky, emitting sparks where it strikes…sparks…

_Sparkes…SPARKES…._

_No, no, don't think about Sparkes now,_ I tell myself. For this entire trip I've been trying not to think about my best friend who confessed his love for me right after the Reaping, and I confessed my secret crush on him. But no, I can't think of him now, that would distract me. I immediately push him out of my mind, focusing instead on complementing my stylist.

"Wow, awesome! You're a good stylist," I tell Marina. Sure, it's a good outfit, but it probably won't get me that many sponsors, at least not on its own. At least it's not hideous, I mean look at what they force the tributes from 12 into every year!

Marina grins. "I'm glad you like it!"

I nod and smile a little, then she ushers me toward the elevators. Evan is also outside, decked out in similar garb. Honestly, he looks cute, cute in the way one of the stray puppies roaming around in 5 is.

"Lookin' good!" He comments brightly. I wink. "Same to you, by the end of tonight every twelve year old girl in Panem will be drooling over you!"

Evan blushes, giggling.

The doors open, and we step inside, except we aren't the only ones in there. A girl with dark blonde hair and a guy with ashen hair and amber eyes and who I think are their mentors are also standing in the elevator. The girl wears a strapless dress that appears to be woven out of wheat, and the dude is shirtless with pants woven in the same fashion. The guy's eyes twinkle slightly, and the girl's eyebrows are arched a bit oddly. They smile at us and nod. Kendall rushes up and hugs the male mentor, who seems to be maybe a few years older than her. The two remain locked in an embrace. We all stare at them awkwardly.

"Hey there," I say friendlily, just to turn attention away from the pair, who look like they're about to start snogging. "Let's see…clothes made of wheat…District…Nine, I think?"

"Yep!" The boy answers. "And are you District Five?"

The girl rolls her eyes. "No, Adam, they're from District One," she says sarcastically. "Well yeah, they have to be from Five if they just got off the fifth floor!"

"Watch it, Penelope," their escort scolds. "A good lady doesn't have a sharp tongue."

"Well screw that! How can anyone care if they act like a lady when they're about to be sent off to their deaths in a few days?"

"Hey, when I was a tribute, they had the elevator messed up, so I ended up staying on Six's floor, so maybe these tributes are from One," the female mentor from Nine points out, shifting the subject.

Penelope shrugs. "Touche."

Evan chuckles. "No, we're from Five, we promise! What does 'touche' mean, anyway?"

"Something in French, I think," Adam answers.

The doors open, and we all step out. "Nice meeting you," I tell District 9. "Good luck with the chariots, you look spectacular!"

"Right back at you!" Adam calls. Kendall reluctantly disentangles herself from the male mentor. "Bye Dane," she says, pecking him on the lips. He smiles. "Find me after the chariot rides," he whispers, his lips brushing her pointy ears. They leave and go to their chariot.

"Is Dane your boyfriend?" Dominic asks.

"None of your business," Kendall replies, blushing. "Ready to earn some sponsors?"

I smile at Evan conspiratorially. "You bet."


	7. ANOTHER Author NoteI know ya love them!

**Chapter 8: ANOTHER AUTHOR'S NOTE. Yeah, I know you love them **

**A/N: Hey there! I know that if you have stuck with me through both this story and **_**Me, A Quarter Quell, and My Stupid Life, **_**you are probably extremely sick of me posting Author Note Chapters with bad news. I know that you are grinding your teeth and ripping your hair out and beating the ground with your fists right now. (Just kidding. Only Cato does that!) But alas, here comes another one! :O**

**I've got some mildly bad news for you. Unfortunately, the school year is beginning soon, and I've got to read a bunch of books and study some things. That will make me very busy. I don't think I'll have time to update on this story regularly, and –**

**Okay, okay, that was a lie, I won't be that busy. Well, actually, yeah I will, but that's not the main reason. Here's the real reason why I won't update this story that often anymore: It's because I am tired of my own story. I used to hate it when people got bored with their Fanfic and cut it off, but now I see why they do. I just feel like this is going predictably – Chariot rides, then training, then the interviews, and so on…ya know?**

**I do have some plot twists in mind, but it's just that…ugh, it's hard to explain! This story just isn't making me all excited like it used to.**

**No no, I'm not ending the story. I'm just not updating it that often anymore. Maybe once a week or so, maybe shorter, maybe longer. I'm not gonna give up on Finch! I love her more than anything in the world! I have some crazy drama with the tributes in this story in mind, and I will add that soon. I don't know when, but soon.**

**I'm so sorry, guys! :'( If you have me on author/story alert, keep it on. Remember, I WILL ADD CHAPTERS.**

**There is a story I have planned that I am super pumped about and I know that I will NOT get bored with it. I will start it ASAP.**

**Thanks for sticking with me, Author Alert people! :3**

**Sincerely,**

**Marina-(that's my name)-the-very-irresponsible-unloyal-annoying-author-who-loves-playpi-and-makes-too-many-excuses-and-is-extremely-grateful-to-those-who-favourited-this-and-my-other-story.**


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